


You Keep Me Warm

by LondonGypsy



Category: Benedict Cumberbatch Fandom, British Actor RPF
Genre: Benedict high on adrenaline, Established Relationship, F/M, Finland Photo Shoot, I stop tagging now, Sexy Times, Snow!Batch, also cuddling with dogs, but damn sexy, dominant benedict, only a little, which needs an outlet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-03
Updated: 2014-04-03
Packaged: 2018-01-17 23:08:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1406005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LondonGypsy/pseuds/LondonGypsy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Benedict and the OFC in Finland.<br/>Cuddling with dogs, driving cars on ice and letting off some steam later. <br/>That's basically all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Keep Me Warm

**Author's Note:**

> How could one NOT write about a bundled up Benedict, cuddling with dogs in the snow, driving a fast car over ice, getting all hyped up on adrenaline and needing an outlet afterwards?!  
> See...  
> Just a quick drabble but I hope it warms you up a little ;-p
> 
> As always, lots of thanks to my trusty Barawen for the Britpick.

Benedict's deep laugh echoes over the empty plains like thunder, resonates in the crisp air like waves in water, doubling and tripling until everything seems to be his warm joyful laughter. 

The cold doesn't seem to bother him at all but then again, he's wrapped up in two heavy coats, two pairs of trousers and a thick scarf. His gloves are currently chewed on by three Tamaskans. Their furry bodies are all over him, sniffing and nuzzling his face and neck, making him laugh even more. 

I sit by the fire, my hands curled around a mug with tea, a woolly blanket over my legs to keep me warm. 

Although, Benedict's voice, carrying far in the freezing air, warms me better than any tea or fire can do. 

He's having the time of his life: he's got a few days off and instead of going somewhere warm, he's booked himself an ice-driving course in Finland. 

And he's enjoying every single second of it. 

And I enjoy watching him. 

He's rolling in the snow now, the dogs bouncing around him, barking about, a blur of his large red hands and the dog's brown-grey fur. He's scratching their ears and bellies, the smile on his face wide and brilliant in its happiness. 

It's been a while since I've seen him that relaxed and care-free. 

Nothing seems to matter for him at the moment, not the people around him, smiling involuntarily at his display of utter joy, not the snow, slowly soaking his trousers, not the icy wind that freezes his nose. 

He's happy, that's all that counts. He's been so busy the past year, travelling all over the globe, barely having a moment to himself.

And yet he managed to squeeze in an interview and a photo-shoot after a request for it. 

'Make it short,' was all he said. 

After all, it's his time off. 

Far away from all the glamour, the people, the fans. 

He loves it, loves what he does with a passion, of course but every now and then he needs to get away to recharge his batteries. 

Suddenly he looks up, sensing my gaze. Capturing my eyes he stops moving and a slow smile spreads over his rosy face, making his eyes sparkle even more.

He gives one last pat on the dogs head and stands, groaning a bit as he straightens his back. 

Without taking his eyes off of me, he slowly comes over. 

And it doesn't matter, that I've seen this look countless times, always directed at me, it never fails to fill my stomach with butterflies and makes my heart beat just a bit faster. 

"Hey there, Beautiful," he murmurs, sitting down next to me, his frosty hands reaching out for my mug. 

I hand it to him, brushing my own hands over his cold skin. He makes a rumbling noise, his fingers closing over mine, holding them against the mug. 

"Having fun out there?" I ask quietly, smiling as he nods enthusiastically but doesn't say anything. 

I let go of his hands, bury my own under the blanket and watch him taking a sip of the tea; the mug looks tiny in his large hands. 

He sighs contently and scoots closer to me. 

I lift my blanket and drape it over his legs as well.

Wordlessly we sit there, sharing the tea, watching the set up for the photo-shoot. His thigh presses against mine under the wool, and even through four layers of fabric I can feel the heat he's radiating. 

"They're going to eat your gloves if you don't get them," I say after a few minutes of silence, nodding towards the dogs, fighting over said items in the snow. 

He chuckles; the vibrations of it against me cause a gentle shiver down my spine.

It's my favourite sound in the world. 

"I'll have another pair. Leave it. They're having fun with them," he says, setting the empty mug down and slips his hands under the blanket. 

They find mine in an instant, his long fingers curling around my shorter ones, tangling them together. 

"You're cold," he murmurs, rubbing my hands between his. 

"You are too," I reply quietly. 

He hums, shifting again and presses his side against me, untangling one hand and sneaking it around my back, pulling me against him. 

I lean my head against his shoulder, the fabric of the coat cool against my skin. 

"Are you sure you don't want to stay for the drive?" he asks after a while. 

I shake my head. 

"God no, I don't need to see that. I'd only die a million deaths watching you trying to kill yourself." 

It was meant as a joke but comes out much more serious than intended.

"Hey," he says, turning towards me, his eyes searching mine, "it's perfectly safe." 

I shrug. 

"Yes, I know. Only snowbanks, no real harm done if you lose control. Still... you know how I am." 

He eyes me a moment, his lively eyes flickering over my face before he frees one hand from the blanket, pulling me into a hug. 

"I'll be careful," he mutters in my hair. 

Sliding my hands under his coat and around his waist, I return the hug, pressing my face into his neck. 

I nose around the scarf until I find a patch of skin, kissing it gently, making him hum lowly in response. 

"I'll wait back at the hotel, having a hot bath, dreaming of you," I whisper against his throat, licking a quick stripe over his cool flesh. 

The sound he makes, a broken whine, goes straight to my heart, making it flutter wildly. 

"I should cancel the drive and go with you," he groans, his fingers slipping under the many layers of my outfit, finding and stroking bare skin. 

The loud call of his name makes us jump a bit. 

We look up; one of the photographer's crew is hesitantly approaching us. 

"Benedict," she asks, her gaze flicking between us nervously, "we're ready for you." 

"Give me one second," he says calmly and she nods, casting one last long look at me before she turns and goes back to where I can see the cameras set up. 

"She hates me," I state matter of factly, grinning a little. 

He laughs softly, a warm sound that makes me press into him for another moment. 

"Who cares." 

"True. And it's my bed you'll be coming back to," I say cheekily, pushing the blanket away and get up. 

He grumbles, not wanting to leave.

"Come on, old man, they need you." 

I hold out my hands and he takes them, pushing up on his feet. He's so much taller than me when he stands; the perfect height to rest his head on top of mine. 

"But you're staying for the shoot?" he asks, adjusting his scarf and running a hand through his hair. 

"Nah, it's too cold, I think I’ll go back. Stay warm, okay? And..." 

He nods, smiling reassuringly at me. 

"I'll be careful," he ends my sentence, knowing full well how much I worry sometimes. 

We stand there in the snow, staring at each other. His eyes shimmer ice blue today, bright and with a hint of mischief in them. I feel the buzz in him, the wish to get out there and drive, getting the adrenaline going so he can feel alive. 

I raise my hand, laying it on his cheek. My fingers are a bit numb and yet I can still feel the crinkles around his eyes as he smiles down at me. 

He leans down, brushing the lightest of kisses over my cold lips. His are warm, despite the cold, warm and familiar and yet they cause a burst of sensation in me. I moan quietly, can't hold it back and he smiles. 

"See you later," he whispers, deliberately using the lower registers of his voice, knowing full what it does to me. 

"Bastard," I murmur but there's no heat in it. 

He's grinning widely now, a smug expression on his gorgeous face. 

"But a lovely one," he snickers, taking a step back. 

"Och, get going, you." 

"Yes Ma'am," he smiles, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear before he turns and trudges away. 

I watch him leave, a tall dark silhouette against the bright white of the ice and snow.

As soon as he's arrived at the set up, he's surrounded by people.

Make-up people fixing his tousled hair, removing the overcoat, tugging on the Belstaff underneath, handing him another scarf, replacing the lost gloves. 

It's like watching a beehive tending to their queen, serving all her needs. 

I know, it's not like that, he doesn't really feel that way, it's more like a necessary evil but deep down inside it makes me proud.  

He's worked so hard for this, and now he's on such a high, in such demand after all those years. He deserves it all. 

With one last look at him, I collect my things and head towards the cars, parking a bit outside the driving area, leaving him to his much needed down time. 

 

It's slowly getting dark outside, the sky's turned dark blue and the sun's casting its watery beams low over white covered trees, making the snow sparkle like diamonds. 

I'm curled up by the window, the book I tried to read in my lap, ignored for the time being as I watch the sun sink behind the horizon. 

Suddenly the door flies open, starting me a bit. 

Benedict bursts in, the biggest smile on his face. He rushes over to me and pulls me in his arms, squeezing hard. 

"That was the most fun I've had in a while," he squeals, whirling me around. 

He sets me back down, talking a mile a minute, making me all dizzy with his wild gestures and his rapidly fired words. 

"You should have seen that, it was amazing. Drifting over the ice, barely controlling the car, almost losing it. That was the biggest adrenaline rush..." 

He kicks off his heavy snow boots, shedding the overcoat all the while still talking, filling the entire room with his enthusiasm.

I'm still standing where he put me down, just drinking in his ecstasy, a smile on my lips. 

Eventually he stops talking and swirls around to me, his smile so radiant it could set the room on fire. 

"That was fucking brilliant," he calls, throwing his arms in the air, letting out a throaty cry that ripples through the room. 

His sudden outburst leaves me speechless and as his gaze settles on me, his eyes are burning with an intensity that makes my knees weak. 

The atmosphere suddenly changes, shifts from his childlike glee to a heated tension. 

"Come here, you," he growls, taking two steps and crashes his mouth against mine. 

It's barely a kiss, all clicking teeth and too much force but it lights a hot little fire in my stomach. His hands are in my hair, curling around my head, pressing me hard against his trembling body. He's panting as his tongue dives deep into my mouth, and he groans deeply as I do my best to return his onslaught of a kiss. 

His hands are all over me, pushing my shirt over my head before he slips cold fingers into the training bottoms I'm wearing. 

He squeezes my arse, pushing his hips against me and even through two layers I can feel how hard he is. 

"I want you, right here, right now," he purrs in my ear, biting the earlobe. 

The sound of it, the undisguised desire in his words tears me out of the daze I'm in. 

I fumble for the zip of his coat, hastily opening it and carelessly push the expensive fabric off his shoulders. He's wearing a blue jumper under it and I shove my hands under it, dragging it over his head along with the t-shirt underneath. 

I rake my nails from his neck down his pale chest, making him arch into me, his trapped cock rubbing against my stomach. Dropping my hands to the button of his trousers I open it and push my hands inside. 

He groans loudly as my searching fingers find the hard bulge, closing around it, stroking once. 

"Jesus fucking Christ," he growls. His head falls back, exposing the long column of his throat, pushing instinctively into my hand. 

I can feel wetness coat my fingertips, can feel his throbbing need against my palms. 

The adrenaline rush always does this to him but I haven't seen him like this in a while. 

It's dazzlingly sexy and probably the hottest thing he can do to me: letting go, losing himself so completely that he doesn't care for anything but himself. 

Usually he's a very considerate lover, never forgets about my needs, sometimes even put them before his own. 

But every once in a while he just loses it and I love every single second of it. 

It's glorious and almost feels dangerous, surrendering to him, letting him take what he needs, letting him use me, giving myself to him completely. 

I let go of him, making him whine as I pull my hands back, opening the rest of his trousers, pushing them down to free him. 

He lifts his head, his eyes finding mine and I gasp. 

His pupils have gone completely black, drowning out all the colour and there's such a feral need showing in his face that it makes me swallow hard. 

"God, please," he whispers hoarsely. 

I lean in and kiss him hard, breaking it as he wants to deepen it. 

He whines again but it quickly turns into a series of delicious moans as I start kissing down his chest. And as I take one of his nipples in my mouth, biting gently, the sound he makes almost undoes me, a strangled cry that shoots straight between my legs. 

I kiss my way down and eventually sink to my knees, taking his cock in my mouth. His knees buckle and his hands settle on my head, weaving through my hair. I keep still, just moving my tongue around the head, humming at his taste, the feeling of his hot heavy flesh against mine. 

He's still holding back, the restraint to just fuck my mouth is still there, keeping him in check. 

But not for long. 

I look up and as I knew, find his hungry eyes on me, watching with parted lips, his cheeks red, sweat on his forehead. 

Holding his gaze, I use my teeth, scraping over the silky skin and a heavy shudder wrecks through him, accompanied by a long, desperate growl. 

His fingers in my hair tighten and without breaking the eye contact he starts moving; slowly at first but as he senses no resistance, his speed picks up. I let my jaw go slack, let him use my mouth like I know he needs to. 

His breath quickens, his arms quiver and the dark moans falling from his lips fill the entire room. 

It's the most thrilling feeling and I could keep going for as long as he wants but suddenly he stops, pulling back and now it's me who whines at the loss. 

He huffs a rough laugh and pulls me to my feet, kissing me feverishly as if he wants to lick his own taste from my lips. 

He walks us back, stumbling over the trousers still around his knees but eventually pushes me against the wall, pressing his body hot and heavy against me. 

He takes a step back and pushes trousers and pants further down before he leans in. 

"Turn around," he commands, his tone rippling almost violently through me and I instinctively obey, bracing myself against the cool wood of the wall. 

I'm still wearing my pants and my bra; he doesn't bother to open the bra but he shoves down my pants and steps closer, letting me feel the heat of his body as he presses against me again. 

"I'm going to take you right here, against this wall," he murmurs in my ear, takes a step back and lays a strong hand on my back, pushing my torso down. 

Sensing what he's got in mind, I push out my arse, inviting him. 

He curses harshly, closes both hands around my hips to keep me still and without another word, pushes inside me. I cry out as he fills me but he doesn't give me time to adjust. Setting an almost painful pace he thrusts hard into me, now completely devoid of any control of his urges; the noises he makes while he's pounding into me are loud and needy, his grip around me unforgiving and fierce. 

His feral desire, his rough pants, his cursed words I don't understand, all that fuels my own desire for him and soon I feel the familiar tingling at the end of my spine, feel my orgasm approaching as quick as he is thrusting into me. 

Everything is overly clear, almost lucid. 

His fingertips digging into my heated skin. 

His hardness moving rapidly inside me. 

His deep voice filling my ears. 

His musky scent surrounding us both. 

Everything is him. 

Suddenly he releases my hip, his hand running up my back and tangle in my hair. 

I groan in delight as he pulls on it, making me bend back so I can feel him even deeper. 

He holds on to my hair, his movements frantic now; he's close. 

I arch back just that bit more, so that I can turn my head and meet his burning gaze. 

"Benedict," I whisper hoarsely and that's it. 

He bucks into me once more, buries himself as deep as possible and comes. His entire body starts shaking like a leaf, his fingers flex, his voice breaks as he cries out, helpless to the force of his orgasm. 

Feeling him inside me, his utter loss of control, the hoarse groans he makes is my undoing as well. 

My orgasm washes over me, hot and violent, turning my limbs into jelly. 

Benedict is draped over my back, his arms around my waist, and I can't hold us both up. 

We collapse to the floor, a sweaty mess of limps on top of each other, gasping for air. He's still holding onto me, nuzzling my neck, lazily kissing the sensitive skin there, making soft humming noises. 

I'm too worn out to move and settle into his embrace, the sweat slowly cooling on our skin. 

Eventually he moves, pulling me closer, nudging me to turn around so I can see his face. 

He's smiling, that wonderful sweet smile he always wears after sex, radiating utter bliss and happiness. 

I return it, feeling boneless and satiated. 

"I would apologise," he purrs, placing light kisses all over my face, "but I reckon that's not necessary." 

I can hear the tiny question mark at the end of the sentence and it makes me smile even more. 

Once he gains his senses again, he's always worried about me, worried about having it taken too far. 

"Did I stop you?" I ask instead, my breath hitching as his smile widens. 

He shakes his head, his eyes are clear and blue again, with a hint of green in the low lights. 

"Then stop worrying," I say, kissing his nose which makes him crinkle it. 

"God, you're so fucking gorgeous," I whisper, suddenly overwhelmed with love for this wonderful creature. 

He eyes me curiously, probably wondering where that came from. 

"You are," I assure him, scrambling to my feet, holding a hand out to him, "the most beautiful human being I've ever met." 

He blushes as he stands, rubbing a hand over his neck, the hint of a smile lingering on his kiss-bruised lips. 

I reach out and take his hand, not caring that we're both half naked, trousers and pants around our ankles, pressing a kiss into his palm. 

"I love you," I murmur against his skin, pressing my cheek into it as he lifts it and lays it on the side of my face. 

"I love you," he whispers back, leaning down to kiss me. 

It's gentle and sweet this time, his lips mapping mine as if he'd be kissing me for the first time. His mouth is slow, hesitant almost; it's as if he's got all the time in the world.  

"I need a shower," he mutters as he breaks the kiss, scrunching his nose as he looks down on himself. 

I watch him kicking off his trousers and pants and then walk towards the bathroom in all his lean glorious nakedness. 

At the door he looks over his shoulder, winking at me. 

"Care to join me?" 

I almost fall over my feet in my haste to follow him. 

 

It's a few days later, Benedict is on his way to Australia, when I get an email at work with his name in the subject line. 

Curiously I open it and almost fall off my chair. 

The Finland shoot. 

And it's absolutely fantastic. 

As always, I never doubted that the photos would turn out anything but amazing but they're particularly gorgeous this time. 

I can't even tell what exactly it is as I click through them, struggling to keep quiet. 

I've always loved his shoots, no matter what he was wearing or doing in them. 

But these? They capture a side of him, people rarely get to see. 

I skip the shots of him in the car and stop at one that looks like a snapshot in between the actual shoot. 

Of course it's not, I know that because he told me it took a few times to get those 'outtakes' just right. 

He's wearing that green ugly coat I hate. But it's the warmest one he has so every now and then it comes out. 

It's not so ugly in this photo. 

The fur-lined hood lays close around the nape of his neck and the thick grey scarf is almost up to his nose, hiding his chin. 

His hair is swept back, trying desperately to curl back into its natural form despite the product in it. There's a hint of the auburn in it, a bit of sunlight enhancing strands of gold and brown. 

The photo is a tad overexposed and yet there is a quiet glow to him. The way he looks into the blue, his eyes shimmering emerald green in this angle, it is of an ethereal beauty. There's a sense of peacefulness to the picture, an aura of longing around him which makes him even more beautiful than he already is. 

I have caressed the lines on his forehead, have kissed the freckles above his brow and on his cheeks, have tasted his lips, almost hidden under the long scarf. 

I know his face better than my own, dream of it so many times and it never ceases to shoot little shocks through my veins when he looks at me with that tiny smile, the private one that's only for me.

Staring at his image on my screen, I get lost in it, my thoughts going back to those few days in the cold, remote town in Finland. Just him and me, blessed seclusion for a short amount of time. 

The clearing of a throat behind me tears me out of my daydreams and I look up, blushing a little. 

"Good lord almighty, is that...?" 

My colleague stumbles closer, gaping at the screen. 

"That's...that's..." 

I nod, wanting to close the pictures but she swats my hand away, leaning closer to my computer. 

"Fuck me sideways, that man's a sight for sore eyes. Where did you find these?" 

I shrug; nobody actually knows that we're together, it would make my life at work hell. 

"Just stumbled over them online," I lie, glad I have them open in my browser and not offline. 

"God, he's so fucking pretty, all bundled up. Which is useless, I'm sure his hotness would have melted all the ice and snow..." 

I bite back a grin. She has no idea. 

"Is there anything in particular you need?" I ask innocently to keep her from drooling all over my keyboard. 

"Huh? Oh yes, the meeting's moved to 2 and you need to have that presentation ready." 

"Okay, thank you." 

She's still staring at my screen but as I clear my throat loudly she flinches, straightening her back. 

With one last longing look at my screen she leaves me alone. 

I know that look just too well.

It's the one I always sport when he leaves me.

I hate the times when he's gone and the only things that keep me going until he's back are picture on the internet. 

And his calls of course. His emails. His texts. His dark voice, leaving messages at the oddest hours because he knows how much I love that. 

Sighing I close the photos but not without saving one to my phone to use as a screensaver. 

And as I collect my things for the meeting I realise one thing. 

As much as I miss him, I know where he goes when he vanishes from the public eye, when he disappears from the online sources, hides from the bloody paparazzi. 

To me. 

And at the end of the day, I'm the lucky one because I know this. 

He's mine. 

 

 

 


End file.
